


I Don't Want to Toe the Line

by everydayescapeartist



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Braime - Freeform, Don't ask about the setting, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I'll hit you up another time bro, JB - Freeform, Loss, Mistletoe, a very little bit, because my fic that's why, braime fluff, but also a bit of angst, but he'd give her a sword obviously...obviously!, hallmark level shit probably, happy holidays folks!, heh, holiday fic, just realized there are no gift exchanges for their holiday, my apologies to Galladon who got to sit this one out, septas and cars and arranged marriages and photographs, they can all exist together mmkay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21939844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everydayescapeartist/pseuds/everydayescapeartist
Summary: Jaime and Brienne share a lot over the years, growing up the children of parents who are the best of friends.  There’s something Jaime realizes they have yet to share and he’s hoping this year’s holiday party will be their best one yet.  (Also known as that cheesy JB mistletoe fic you didn’t really ask for but I felt compelled to write anyway.  Cheers!)
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 22
Kudos: 129





	I Don't Want to Toe the Line

Joanna and Aleysia were as close as sisters, though they shared no blood. As such, Tywin and Selwyn were always on good terms with one another, developing a friendship of their own as their wives willed it. Jaime remembered the kind, plain-faced woman that his beautiful, radiant mother spent hours laughing with when he was a young child. As he sorted through some old boxes at Casterly Rock, having finally agreed to move there and take over the running of the family estate, he pulled out a sprig of mistletoe from one of the holiday decorations boxes and it brought his thoughts ‘round to his mother, her friend, and her friend’s daughter. 

One of his earliest memories was of Joanna holding a sprig of mistletoe above herself and him right before leaning in and kissing his then chubby, little cheek. It was such a warm memory and he cherished it since he had such a finite number of memories with her, having lost her by the age of eight. He remembered too that right after she did that, he snatched the mistletoe and ran over to hold it above the baby his mom’s best friend had brought over with her and sat in her cradle near the fire. He’d been so awed that this tiny creature had at first lived inside Aleysia’s belly and then had somehow magically appeared outside it just a few weeks ago. Carefully, he leaned in and kissed her on her rosy, little cheek. He looked back and grinned at his mother and the baby’s mother. They were holding their hands to their hearts and telling him he was such a sweet boy and he took in all of their praise and then smiled back down at the baby. That was a good day.

A few years later when the baby was no longer such and could walk and talk and wear dresses and giggle, Jaime remembered his parents and hers being at a party, probably one hosted at the Rock though it may have been held at Evenfall Hall. He wasn’t entirely sure. He remembered Tywin giving Aleysia a light kiss on the cheek underneath some mistletoe before continuing on with their conversation. Jaime, standing next to his father and always trying to please him by learning from and emulating him, leant forward and kissed Brienne on the cheek. It was now chubby in the way his had previously been. It was soft and pale but still had a rosy hue to it. As he pulled back, she brought her hand up to touch the spot he’d kissed and then she giggled. He smiled down at her and she returned it. Aleysia had told him he was still such a sweetie and Tywin had given him a curious look but then continued with his conversation.

They had lost Joanna shortly after when she’d died giving birth to Jaime’s younger brother. His sister hated Tyrion right from the start because of it. Aleysia had tried to comfort all three children but Cersei had pushed her away. Brienne had been fascinated with Tyrion and would put her fingers in his tiny little hands and try to sing to him. She was always able to make him smile and it heartened Jaime that someone other than him tried to do that. Tywin had pulled away and was an even more distant father than he’d been when their mother was alive. 

When Aleysia passed not a full year later along with Brienne’s baby sisters, Selwyn brought her over frequently to visit with the other children and so that he and Tywin could lock themselves in the study with drinks in hand. She wasn’t trying to make Tyrion smile anymore. _She_ wasn’t smiling anymore. Jaime did his best to make them both smile. Cersei looked on sullenly from the wings.

Jaime thought back to a time when they were teenagers, Brienne just starting out her teenage years as he was nearing the end of his. Cersei and her wretched, catty friends were teasing Brienne, who looked incredibly uncomfortable in the dress she’d been coerced into wearing by her septa. He had watched Cersei call over Ronnet Connington before none-too-gently shoving Brienne to stand in front of him, beneath a hanging bit of mistletoe. Brienne’s face had flamed and Ronnet, looking up, had laughed and then screwed his face up in dramatic horror, pushing her back out from under the small plant and skipping backward himself. “Never! Cers! Why are you trying to embarrass me like that?” He reached up and tugged the mistletoe down from the doorframe and tossed it at Brienne’s flat chest. “Here! That’s all you’ll get from me. Take it around and see if some blind fool will kiss you!” Then, he had a grand laugh and Cersei and her friends joined in, as Jaime watched Brienne turn and run from the room, still gripping the mistletoe in her one hand. 

He’d gone after her after stalking over to say some choice words to his blood and her cronies. He found her out on the balcony they both liked to hang out on, watching the waves roll in from the distance and crash below. “Connington’s an ass with very little to recommend him in his trousers.”

She sniffed and turned to send him the smallest of smiles. He could see the tear tracks on her cheeks and he moved closer to awkwardly place an arm around her shoulders. She stiffened only slightly. “We could just go kick him into the dirt, if you like. My father won’t appreciate the disappointing display but that’s really just the icing on the cake for me anyway.”

“Jaime,” she admonished lightly, “it doesn’t solve anything. Yes, I can send him to the maester if I choose. I know it. I think he knows it. It doesn’t make me any more sought beneath the mistletoe,” she said, holding the small plant up in front of their faces (for she was now nearly of the same height as him). “So, I’ll still be fodder for mockery in that way.”

“But it’s stupid. It’s such a silly tradition and…”

“But it can be a fun one. You don’t have to talk it down just because it got used against me. It’s sweet of you but not necessary.”

“I don’t wanna be sweet. I wanna beat someone up.”

Brienne laughed. “Well, now we’re getting to the bottom of it.”

“Do you wanna ditch the party and go spar? I should check in on Tyrion but we could do that first.”

“My septa will have my head if I ruin this dress.”

“I’ll find you a change of clothes. You can probably wear some of mine.”

The blush on her cheeks was unmistakable at that and he hoped he hadn’t inadvertently mocked her. That hadn’t been his intent. But her lips lifted into a smile then and she nodded and he grinned back, grabbing her hand and pulling her after him so they could be on their way. She dropped the mistletoe on the balcony but neither of them cared.

The next time he and Brienne conversed about mistletoe was the holiday season after she’d reached her sixteenth name day. She’d just finished a turn on the dance floor with Renly Baratheon, at the end of which he’d leaned in and given her a kiss on the cheek. She’d blushed prettily, or that was Jaime’s recollection because by that point and for years prior really, Jaime had found her blushes to be a pretty sort of aspect to her. The flaws that others pointed out about his friend were neutral points to him. Yes, he saw her. He saw her crooked nose and teeth. He saw her large lips and her overabundance of freckles. It didn’t matter. It was just Brienne. And he liked Brienne and whatever parts made up her whole. He went to meet her as she moved off somewhere, probably to seek out refreshment. “See. Mistletoe is just a device that you don’t seem to need from what I’ve just observed.”

She turned to shake her head at him, her lips curving despite herself. “Renly’s just being nice. You know he’d much rather kiss you than me.”

Jaime’s eyes had widened at that but running the evidence through his own mind, he couldn’t find himself disagreeing with the assessment. He inclined his head toward the other side of the room. “Hyle Hunt definitely doesn’t want to kiss me but he is watching you pretty closely tonight. Shall I make him stop?”

She reached out and punched him playfully on the arm. “You should stop skulking around like an overprotective big brother and go find some kisses of your own.”

“So bossy, Tarth.” 

After a moment, he and she had both felt the tug of a smaller arm on their own and looked down to see Tyrion smiling up at them with a mix of mischief and exasperation they didn’t quite understand. But after a minute of side-stepping to please him, he stopped, pointed upward, bowed to them like the dramatic kid he was, and then took off to find other amusements. Jaime and Brienne looked up warily, half-knowing what they would see. Tyrion had pulled them beneath a familiar green decoration. Jaime quirked his lips at her, shrugging. “You know you don’t have to,” she said quietly.

“I have at least as much charm as Renly,” he replied, leaning toward her. He’d heard her breath catch right before he’d second guessed his intention and veered his head just right of his destination, his lips pressing gently to her cheek, a hairsbreadth from the corner of her mouth. He kept them there long enough to make it clear that he was not embarrassed or at all bothered at the idea of kissing her. She turned her head slightly and he felt her plump lips graze his cheek too before pulling away. He searched her gaze and saw a mixture of emotions there. He didn’t know how to read them. He didn’t know if her pale skin was flushed out of discomfort or something more. He wanted to ask but Hunt had approached and asked her if she’d like to go get a drink and she’d hastily agreed. 

That had hurt. He hadn’t known why it did, but it did. Neither of them had brought up the mistletoe moment again. Brienne dated Hyle for a couple years. He claimed her mistletoe kisses for that duration. Jaime dated a few women but always found himself single during the holidays. Tyrion told him he was an idiot and lamented not having a more suave example of a big brother to learn from. Cersei got married and pregnant and was at least blessedly preoccupied by her life path and uninterested in being a thorn in his side or Tyrion’s or Brienne’s. 

So lost in his own thoughts was he that he didn’t hear that someone had come to the door. He heard a light knocking behind him and turned to see his long-time friend standing in the doorway to the room, looking at him curiously. “You didn’t answer, so I let myself in. You need to find a better spot for the spare key. Every idiot knows to look under the mat.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Guess I was just overly focused up here.”

“Getting ready for the party tomorrow? Don’t you have staff to do that or something? Things are looking pretty good so far.”

“Yeah, the event staff have been setting up. I’ve just been trying to get my bearings here, going through some old things.”

“Find anything good?” she asked, coming closer to peek into the box he had sitting on the desk in front of him. 

He dropped the mistletoe and picked up two small painted knights. “Do you remember painting these?” 

She smiled softly, picking up the knights and rubbing her thumb lightly over them. “Yeah. It was the first holiday season after I lost my mom. You thought it’d cheer me up and I argued with you that knights weren’t strictly holiday-related and you said what could be more in the spirit of the holidays than protecting the innocent. So, we decided to paint holly on their armor so that we could put them out with all the other decorations that year.”

“It worked out well.”

“Yeah, it did.” She took the knights and moved to set them on the mantle above the fireplace before returning to his side. He nodded his approval of the placement and she grinned before staring curiously back into the box. “Are those…?”

“They’re cards your mother and mine wrote to one another. I think your father brought some over years ago because he thought my sister might want them, but…” He didn’t need to say more. Brienne knew enough of his sister to know she wouldn’t likely have touched them. "I don’t know why they ended up in this box. I thought it was just decorations but it’s more a mish-mash of things. I was going to share them with you tomorrow but it’s nice you didn’t make me wait after all.” He placed the stack in her hands and saw the glisten in her eyes as she read through them…the inside jokes, the comforting words only good friends can offer, the mentions of how quickly the children were growing. “And here we are all grown,” he remarked, reading along with her.

“Indeed. Thank you for sharing these with me. My dad does still have some of the others. He keeps them in his room still, I think. I used to sneak in and read them.”

“You never told me that.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I should have. I didn’t want to make you sad. It does a bit of the opposite though, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. It’s okay. I understand. I hoped you’d like reading these and wouldn’t be too saddened. I thought that would be the case but it’s good to see that I was right.”

“You just like being right.”

“Of course, I do. Who wouldn’t?” he joked and she laughed with him.

“They’d be glad we stayed friends.”

He nodded. “They would.”

He stood watching her surreptitiously for another minute as more cards and items from the box were reviewed. “Do you ever think…?”

She turned her gaze to his wonderingly. “What?”

He shook his head, trying to determine if he should continue. She narrowed her eyes slightly, challenging him to. “It’s neither here nor there. I just wondered if they ever hoped we’d be more than friends.”

“Like an arranged marriage?”

“No…I don’t know. Not so formal as that. I just meant…I remember how they were so pleased when we showed one another affection.”

“Well, it’s better than their children hating each other.”

“Of course. It’s just…it was just something that crossed my mind as I was remembering them together and with us while we still had them.”

Brienne thought about Sansa and her friend Jeyne and how she’d overheard them once talking about getting married and having babies and setting their kids up with one another once they were grown and she thought perhaps Jaime wasn’t too far off in this thinking. Except that she was Brienne and he was Jaime and no one would ever look at them now and think they should be together.

“I think they’d put less pressure on us to find suitable spouses than either Tywin or my dad.”

“Maybe so. Still getting those sad, resigned looks from your dad?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ve staved off some lectures and disappointment for at least a few months by agreeing to move back here.”

“I hear Lyza Tully’s engaged now. Sure you want to let that one get away?”

He screwed up his face at her. “You know I’d pay for the honeymoon if it meant she was out of my hair for good.”

She grinned at that. “Come on. What needs to get done before the party? I’m here. Put me to work.”

And so he went over the to do list with her. After hours of prep alongside the event staff who’d returned for a time to do more work, they found themselves plopped down on a sofa eating takeout and watching (and mercilessly picking at) a film about a group of knights fighting corruption in their kingdom. The idea was good, the execution not so much. 

Jaime enjoyed the time they spent laughing at one another’s jokes and analyzing history together. He enjoyed how amiably they passed takeout boxes between them, not bothering to exchange utensils because they didn’t care about sharing those anyway. He enjoyed how she kicked him playfully and how she’d seemed to enjoy when he’d caught up her foot and decided to be nice and massage it. He loved their comfort but there was also a building discomfort that he didn’t hate but didn’t know what to do with. It was in the way his body reacted when she let out soft sighs and moans as he rubbed her feet. It was in the way he let his fingers slip beneath the hem of her pants leg before remembering himself and realizing that leg massage territory was definitely more than friendly. For that matter, he couldn’t think of a single other friend whose feet he would voluntarily rub for the better part of an hour…or for any amount of time, for that matter. It was in the way her laugh at unintentionally funny scenes of the movie made his heart swell in his chest. It was in the way he found himself drinking in her smile each time she looked back up at him and graced him with it. It was in the way he had wanted her to agree with him that their mothers wanted them to become more.

Jingle. Fucking. Bells. He wanted to be with Brienne. He wanted to _be with_ Brienne. He released her foot rather abruptly and she turned to look at him uncertainly before offering him a small smile and curling onto her side to more directly face the tv, pulling her foot from his lap. “Thank you,” she said softly.

“Sure,” he nearly croaked out before clearing his throat and repeating it more clearly.

They watched the rest of the movie in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Jaime reached forward and pressed the off button on the remote, bringing additional darkness to the room. Brienne sat up, bringing both feet back to the carpeted floor in front of the couch. 

“It’s late. Are you staying?” he asked, not sure which answer he was hoping for.

“I don’t know. I could, I guess.”

“You should. You still always have a room here.” Nevermind. He knew which answer he preferred.

“Glad to see the new owner isn’t going to be a jerk and contest that,” she joked. 

“I’m sure he’ll be a jerk in other ways from time to time,” he allowed, his grin partly roguish and partly apologetic. 

“No doubt,” she said, bumping her arm against his playfully. At least, that’s all it had ever felt like before. Now, heat spread up and down his arm from the spot she’d just bumped. 

He forced himself to stand and she followed suit. They each grabbed some takeout boxes and brought them to the kitchen. No point in doing all of the party prep to ready the estate for the following evening if they weren’t even going to clean up after themselves tonight. Once they finished doing that, they walked toward the sleeping quarters. Jaime pushed open the door to the room Brienne had used for plenty of years on her visits to Casterly. Peeking in, he nodded and turned back to Brienne. “Looks ready for you.”

She peeked in and nodded her agreement. “Yep. Go get some sleep, Lord Lannister. Way too many sycophants are on their way to fawn over you tomorrow.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

“Nah. I’ll remind you repeatedly.”

“You’re a mean wench.”

“And you’re a drama queen.” She smiled fondly at him and then slipped into her room, turning to shut the door between them. He didn’t really want her to. “Goodnight, Jaime.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Goodnight, Brienne.”

After a restless night’s sleep, he met her in the kitchen where she handed him a breakfast smoothie and pushed a plate of buttered toast his way. “No point in eating too much now when we’ll be feasting later.”

“True,” he said, thanking her and ingesting his light breakfast. She helped with a few other tasks before leaving the house and assuring him she’d be back later that night for the festivities, if he could even spare her a moment amidst all his fans. He’d narrowed his eyes and shaken his head at her, waving as she drove away. 

He signed off on whatever he needed to throughout the day. After he’d gotten dressed for the evening, he found himself looking back through the box he’d opened yesterday, which he had now moved to his bedroom. In addition to the cards and letters between their mothers, he had found photographs. Many of them showed he and Brienne and each one made him smile. One picture amused him. It showed he and Brienne standing in a doorway. He recognized which one it was. It was in the main hall at Casterly. They were both looking up and he had to look closer at the photo to see why. Then, he shook his head. Of course. They were staring at the sprig of mistletoe that had been hung from the doorway’s arch. 

_Are you trying to tell me something, mom?_ he asked the space around him.

He jumped a little as the knock sounded at his door. “Lord Lannister, the first guests are pulling into the drive.”

“Okay, thanks Selmy. I’ll be right down.”

He took a deep breath, spared one last glance into the box next to him and then, on a whim, grabbed the decorative mistletoe from within it and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket. Then, he rose and left his room, shutting the door quietly behind him. 

The party was pretty much what he’d expected it to be. He’d greeted more people than he’d ever care to. His cheeks ached from his fake smiles. At least he’d never lacked for a drink in hand. His excellent staff had seen to that. He glanced at the clock for maybe the twentieth time that evening. He had yet to lay eyes on the one person he wanted to greet that evening. And could Mace Tyrell be any more boring? He didn’t think so. He excused himself the next chance he got and made his escape to a balcony, which is where he spotted her arrival. She was impossible to miss under any circumstance but tonight, she was luminescent. As she stepped out of her car and handed her key to the valet, her pale skin glowed in the moonlight. It was a wonderful contrast against the deep blue velvet gown she wore. Her hair was swept back and held on either side by an ornate hair comb. He thought the hair accessories looked vaguely familiar. He felt his heart beat faster than it had been two minutes earlier. He didn’t care to question it. He just turned and went back inside to make his way toward the front door. 

Once he got there, she was already inside being greeted by Mace’s daughter Margaery. Though his offspring was far more interesting than Mace was, his daughter was still a bit much to take at times. That said, she’d always been nice to Brienne, so for that he did find himself liking her at least a little. But he didn’t like her right now when he just wanted his best friend’s attention all to himself. For she really was his best friend, he mused. He’d never really thought about that much before…no need to classify things…but it was true. Over her friend’s head, he saw the moment she noticed him. She sent him a warm smile and he felt it. Like, he really felt the warmth all over just from that one look. Jingle. Fucking. Bells.

“She really is quite singular, isn’t she?”

What was it with the Tyrells tonight? He supposed the Tyrell matriarch hadn’t gotten enough of him earlier. “Lady Olenna,” he acknowledged. 

“Oh, no need for the formalities. You’re not being graded.” His gaze briefly found his father holding court across the room. “Well, not by me anyway,” she amended. 

“That’s kind of you, Olenna, though I’m not sure I believe you.”

“Smart man. But you should believe me about her,” she said, drawing their attention back to Brienne who was currently laughing at some story Margaery was telling her. 

“I do. That is, I know how exceptional she is. We’ve been friends a long time.”

“Maybe too long.”

His head jerked back around to face her. “I don’t get your meaning.”

“I know you don’t, dear. More’s the pity.” 

He narrowed his eyes slightly at that, not appreciating the condescension. She eyed him slyly for another minute and then nodded her head to herself, seemingly deciding something though he had no idea what, and then patted him briefly on the arm before turning and gliding away. It was a glide if ever he saw one. He didn’t know if Olenna Tyrell was capable of just a simple walk. His eyes returned to where he’d last seen his friend, only to find her no longer there. He looked around in confusion and was brought up short as his other closest friend, Addam Marbrand sidled up next to him. “She’s not in your usual age range, friend, but who am I to judge?” Addam teased, staring off after Olenna.

Jaime scoffed. “Very funny.”

“Enjoying your new old abode?”

Jaime shrugged. “So far.”

“What is it? Being called ‘Lord’ too many times leaving a bad taste in your mouth?”

“It is what it is.”

“Well, I’m not going to feel bad for you,” Addam joked, elbowing Jaime in the ribs. Jaime just took a half-step away. "My, you’re serious tonight. You need to drink more, dance, get laid, something.” Without looking at his friend, Jaime just rolled his eyes before resuming his scan of the room. And then his ears immediately perked up as he heard Addam exclaim, “Brienne! Thank the gods. You’re just what Jaime needs.”

Hells, but his friend was right. He hoped she hadn’t just heard Addam’s suggestion that he get laid. Not that it was anything she hadn’t heard before. But before the words hadn’t immediately formed a picture of her in his mind. A picture with so much more of her lovely skin visible. He cleared his throat and turned to face her, realizing his glimpse of her from the balcony had barely done her any justice as compared to the vision of her up close. 

“Good evening, Lord Lannister,” she sing-songed.

“Good evening, wench,” he retorted, earning him an unladylike snort, which made him grin.

Addam glanced between them with amusement. “Okay, you two strange creatures, I’m leaving you to your own devices. At least one of us should enjoy the merriment tonight. Brienne, good luck. Maybe whisk this one out onto the dance floor or go drown him in the sea, whichever you think is best.”

“Why do I invite you over?” Jaime asked snarkily.

Addam just laughed heartily and then slinked away into the crowd. 

“How are you faring so far?” 

He appreciated the note of concern in her voice and smiled up at her. He remembered how weird it had been when she’d surpassed him in height during her later teenage years. Now, it was just another aspect of her he appreciated. And he knew from past experience that it didn’t take much more than a simple raise up on the balls of his feet for him to kiss her. He wished he hadn’t turned his head at the last minute. He wished he’d kissed her full on the mouth that night. Maybe he would have realized sooner…

Of course, maybe she would have decked him. 

“It’s nothing unexpected, really. I was looking forward to your arrival though.” She smiled at that. “You look stunning.”

She shook her head briefly. “No doubt people are stunned they even make dresses in my size.”

“Don’t do that. I mean it. You look great.”

He was rewarded with a blush and a quiet “thank you.” He showed her what he hoped was a winning smile. “You look hideous as usual,” she remarked, trying to keep a straight face as she said it. “Well, you can only do so much, you know,” he kidded right back. They spoke for a few more minutes about how the house had turned out, about the other partygoers, about the delectable hors d'oeuvres, about the music…nothing of significance but enjoyable nonetheless. They both smiled as Tyrion approached them. 

“Lord Lannister…”

“Don’t you start, too,” Jaime admonished. 

“A cranky lord, isn’t he?” Tyrion said to Brienne, jokingly.

“Watch it or I’ll have you removed from the property.”

“Very cranky indeed.”

“Not really. Give me a hug, young troublemaker.”

Tyrion laughed and did just that as his brother bent down. “Well, you have your role and I have mine.” He turned to smile up at Brienne. “Do I not also get a hug from the maiden herself?”

“Oh, please,” she scoffed at the description.

“What? No longer a maiden then? Not the mother yet, surely…”

“I’m going to request the Lord of the house kick you out.”

“Such a tough crowd tonight. And I was trying to compliment you.”

“Well, don’t try so hard. I will give you a hug though.”

“Finally!” Tyrion said with exaggerated exasperation before Brienne leaned down and embraced him fondly.

“Well, now that the mushy stuff is out of the way,” the younger Lannister joked, “don’t hold out on me, brother. Where are we keeping the good stuff? This wine is mediocre at best. Our sister would never approve.”

“Lucky for us, she couldn’t make it tonight. Pace yourself, little brother.”

“You’re no fun. How can you stand how not fun he is, Brienne?”

Brienne’s lips quirked, though she seemed to try to fight them from doing so. “Somehow, I manage,” she replied, doing her best attempt at a long-suffering tone. 

Tyrion’s attention was drawn to someone behind Brienne and Jaime and he was soon displaying a toothy grin. “Oh, goodie. Some people more fun than you two have arrived.” 

Brienne spared a glance over her shoulder and then whipped her head back around, eyes wide. “Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no.”

Jaime looked at her with concern. “What?” he asked, turning his own head to assess the problem. “Oh.”

“Bronn! Shay! So good to see you,” Tyrion cried jovially. 

“Hello, Tyrion, my lion,” Shay greeted, stroking her fingers through his curls with a bit too much familiarity. “Are you on the prowl tonight?” 

“Always, my sweet.”

Jaime made a face at her that she knew indicated he would be making an actual gagging gesture if he didn’t know that a Lord was expected to behave better than that. 

“Brienne, that dress fits you like a glove. Of course, I like a tight fit too.” Bronn sent her a wink, looking quite pleased with what he apparently deemed a clever come on. 

Jaime thought Brienne might actually gag at the coarse comment. “Bronn, Shay, how good of you to come. I trust you’ll enjoy the festivities. If you’ll excuse us though, Brienne had just promised me a dance.”

Shay smiled knowingly and nodded. Bronn shrugged but saw them off with an offer for Brienne. “If you want to try some different moves later, come find me.” Brienne gripped his hand so hard he thought she might injure it as they turned away and he couldn’t quite tell who was leading whom to the dance floor. 

“I hate to dance.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Okay, I hate to dance when people are watching.”

“Nobody’s watching. Nobody cares.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“A ’thank you, Jaime’ would suffice.”

She groaned and let him slide an arm around her waist and link his hand to hers in the middle of the dance floor. Surrounded by quite a few other couples, it was possible no one was watching them too closely. Not that he cared if they were but he knew it was a point of insecurity for her since some unfortunate louses had made to mock her more than once by pretending they wanted to dance with her and court her, only to proclaim it all a joke or a bet at a later time. None of those louses had ever repeated that mistake. Jaime’d seen to that. 

“If you don’t relax a little, people will think the Lord Lannister a poor dancer. They’ll think I’m stepping on your toes and the like.”

She took a slow breath and mumbled “sorry.”

“What was that?”

“Don’t push your luck. No one would be surprised if _I_ were the type to step all over _your_ toes.”

“Okay, okay. Truce."

“You need trust to have a truce.”

“I trust you. And you trust me. Don’t even try to go there.”

She sighed. “I know. Thanks for getting us away from Bronn.”

“I didn’t think _I_ was in any danger…or does my suit fit me like a glove?”

“Shut up.”

Jaime chuckled but did as she asked, taking a slow breath of his own and just enjoying the dance, the feel of their bodies touching and moving together. He dared to move the hand linked to hers such that he could place her second hand on his other shoulder, freeing his hand to join the other at her waist. She eyed him suspiciously but didn’t say anything. She didn’t say anything when they continued into a second song, nor when his hands slid more to the small of her back than her waist. He didn’t say anything when her own hands slid onto his upper back. If there was anyone else in that room, Jaime had lost all awareness. Brienne hadn’t though. As the second song ended, she started to pull back but he held to her, tilting his head in question.

“I don’t think your father would be pleased if I hogged you tonight. Not when there are so many eligible, marriageable ladies here for his son.”

“Last I checked, you meet the same criteria.”

“Don’t be silly. You know I don’t really.”

Jaime looked at her, really trying to study her reaction to his suggestion. He thought he saw it in her eyes too…that she felt something for him that was more than just friendly. He wasn’t sure though. He didn’t know if she thought she wasn’t allowed to be with him for some reason or if she just didn’t really ever see herself wanting to be. 

“I don’t know that, actually.”

Her blue eyes widened such that he thought they could wash him away like the waves off of the Rock or Tarth. He wouldn’t mind. “What are you saying? Why are you teasing me, Jaime? It’s beneath you.”

“I’m not teasing you. I’m just...”

Jaime didn’t get to finish his explanation because Selwyn chose that moment to cut in and ask if he could steal a dance from his daughter. 

“Of course, dad,” she answered, looking back at Jaime uncertainly as she and Selwyn moved away. 

Jaime grimaced to himself. And because he was already feeling the weight of failure, it seemed quite natural that his father appeared at his side. 

“If you’re going to do something, then do it. Or move on and be open to the other possibilities that have quite literally been dropped at your doorstep. It doesn’t matter to me which. Jo and Allie would have more to say I think. But either way, you’re a Lannister. Stop floundering. We don’t flounder.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying Lady Brienne is a suitable match for you. And she’s already well-acquainted with our family and this household. I do not object. But don’t let that steer you in the opposite direction. I do know how you so love to do that of which I do not approve.”

It was hardly a loving endorsement but it was maybe the closest they’d ever get from Tywin Lannister. 

“Thank you, father.”

Tywin merely made a noise in the back of his throat Jaime could only guess at and then cupped his hand briefly to Jaime’s shoulder as he walked away. 

Well, that was strange, Jaime thought. Strangely encouraging too. He was a Lannister, damn it. Of course, she was a Tarth...so no less terrifying actually. 

He moved in the direction of the kitchens, thinking to use checking on the preparation of the main course as a good excuse to take a few minutes to mentally prepare for what he could say to her. 

Having set the kitchen staff on edge with his nervous energy, he was returning to the main hall a short while later when he spotted her. She caught his eye and moved to exit the hall and meet up with him but was caught answering the question of one of the event staff. He watched as she smiled and confidently directed the woman in whatever endeavor she was requiring guidance on. Tywin’s assessment was not off. She already commanded the respect of the household, though that would not be a selling point for her. He chuckled to himself. It was not as though she’d been just pining to be made lady of an estate. She had her own family estate to reluctantly inherit as it was. 

Not to mention she might not even want to kiss him let alone marry him. One thing at a time…their fathers’ plans be damned. 

And that first thing was at the forefront of his mind as he moved toward her. He could see she’d gotten waylaid again and was trying to inch away slowly. Jaime picked up his pace. She was just about to inch herself into the doorway to the hall and he wanted nothing more than to meet her there. 

Jaime had noticed the mistletoe. Bronn had unfortunately noticed it too. Brienne had not. Jaime could see the other man starting to strut in the same direction. No way was he letting Brienne get cornered. No way was he getting foiled by Tyrion’s uncouth friend. 

He did a glide of his own that he thought Olenna might even be proud of, sliding in next to Brienne and placing his hand on her arm to gain her attention just as Bronn walked up to them from the other side of the doorway. She shot her best friend a grateful smile and politely excused herself from her brief discourse with the other party guest. Jaime spared the guest a slight smile as well before turning back fully to face the object of his ever-growing affection. He didn’t really have time to say anything much to her though because Bronn started in with some corny line about how it was funny running into one another again right in this particular spot. He glanced upward and Brienne’s eyes followed, her mouth going slack in some apparent mix of confusion, dread, and acceptance. 

“Sorry, Bronn. You’re not my type,” Jaime took the opportunity to say, letting the other man see the challenge in his eyes before shifting in front of Brienne to bodily block her from him. 

Her eyes darted over his face, no doubt trying to read his intention. “Jaime?” she asked quietly, not elaborating further, perhaps not entirely sure of what she was asking. He smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile before sliding one hand gently along her jawline and moving in closer to touch his lips to hers. It was a chaste kiss at first. He lingered with his lips just pressed to hers, lightly breathing in her scent. That did nothing to encourage him to pull back…so he didn’t. Instead, he raised up slightly on his feet and applied more pressure with his lips, his other hand sliding over her waist to her lower back. Ever so slowly, she responded, pressing her own lips back against his. He stroked her jaw and her back and coaxed her mouth open with his own. Gods, it was better than he’d been imagining. Her own arms were around his shoulders now. He started to push his fingers back from her jaw into her hair but he was met with the hard teeth of the hair comb. It shouldn’t have been a stumbling block but it momentarily interrupted the flow of their movements and she seemed to take the brief hesitance as a cue to pull back from the kiss. Jaime inwardly cursed. But opening his eyes and seeing the way he’d already begun to muss her appearance, he thought perhaps it was best they hadn’t gotten too out of hand. But he really hoped they could later. Of course, that is if she didn’t drive away disgusted with him or anything. She certainly hadn’t seemed disgusted. He tried to catch her eyes but she was looking over his shoulder, glancing into the crowd to see who had been paying attention. He heard a few murmurs that spurred a few more and eventually a few low wolf whistles sounded but he was pretty sure those were coming from his brother and Addam, sod ‘em. A quick glance told him some people had been privy to their display but plenty more had been oblivious. He didn’t give a rat’s ass but he knew Brienne wouldn’t hold that same conviction. “Brienne,” he said, trying to gain her attention again. “Come. Let’s go somewhere and talk.”

She looked back at him then, her face somewhat flushed, and she started to shake her head “no.” Just then, one of the kitchen staff came up next to them to announce to him that dinner would be served in the main dining hall in ten minutes. Jaime thanked the worker and turned his attention back to Brienne. “The guests need to be informed and urged into the dining hall,” she said. He recognized the mask she was using. This was all-business Brienne. “Right,” he answered, with more conviction than he felt. She turned and walked straight back into the crowd, leaving him to make the announcement, even as he saw her gravitate toward Margaery, Loras, and Renly and start to usher them toward the dining area. What the hell? What awful timing. 

All through dinner, he tried to maintain polite conversation. Most people made it pretty easy for him. Oberyn Martell’s smarmy commentary on whether he kept his enemies as close or closer than he kept his friends (with the suggestion of how enjoyable that could be) threatened to tarnish his hospitable reputation but he managed to control his temper. If Brienne heard the comment, she did not offer any response, keeping to the other end of the long table and speaking in hushed tones with the Tyrells and her father. At least she was still at his table and not one of the others. Craning his neck toward another table would have been tremendously obvious but he would have likely done it anyway. 

After too many courses and too much small talk, the table was finally cleared and the guests returned to the main hall. Jaime tried to find Brienne to steal her away but she knew Casterly like the back of her hand and she was adept at hiding from him, which wasn’t too hard when he was still very much in demand by his guests. He and his father gave a speech thanking everyone for coming and wishing them good fortune in the weeks to come and finally…FINALLY…he found himself at the door, seeing the last guest off. The last guest who was not Brienne. If she’d slipped away during all of it, she hadn’t been spotted doing so. A correctly directed inquiry confirmed for him that her vehicle was still on the premises and he breathed a sigh of relief. An even bigger sigh than when his father had left, after scrutinizing him briefly, nodding, tossing some remark about floundering over his shoulder and then swiftly walking to and getting into his limo. An even bigger sigh than when Selwyn had gripped his hand harder than he ever had before, commenting about how Jaime was a grown man with many responsibilities now and how he needed to act with honor at all times. Subtle he was not. An even bigger sigh than when Tyrion and Addam had enjoyed taking the piss out of him before dragging their drunken selves and Shay’s and Bronn’s drunken selves off to their own waiting hired car. Bronn had even turned and given him a slight shrug before sauntering off with the others. It seemed perhaps there were no hard feelings there…not that he would have cared. 

Jaime turned and re-entered the ridiculous manse. Things were eerily quiet now. The event staff had worked to clean as they went earlier and had done such a fine job of that that Jaime had sent them home with the party guests. They would return the next day to finish but there was nothing more that required their attention that night. Also, Jaime really didn’t want anymore fucking interruptions. He’d just sent the valet home too after inquiring after the Lady of Tarth’s vehicle and receiving the answer he’d wanted. 

He checked for her in a few places but he wasn’t surprised when he found her in the one they’d shared with one another quite a few times over the years. It was a good sign. She was ready to be found. 

He slipped off his jacket on his way outside, sliding the glass door closed behind him. She was leaning forward over the balcony wall, staring out at the ocean. He watched the wind rustle her hair and watched the gooseflesh form on her long arms a few seconds later. He moved forward and draped his jacket over her shoulders. She brought her hands up instinctively to pull it more tightly around her as he moved into the spot directly beside her. “So chivalrous, Lord Lannister,” she remarked, an attempt at a tease but her sad tone made it fall somewhat flat. 

Why was her tone sad? He didn’t want to make her feel sad. 

“I aim to please,” he replied, trying to keep a lightness to his own tone.

She nodded, still not looking at him. “I know.”

“Are you upset with me, Brienne?”

She shook her head and her lips lifted briefly. “No.”

“I meant no offense…” He stumbled over his words and he hated himself for it.

“It’s fine. I get it. You felt obligated.”

What?! Was that what she thought? “I didn’t feel obligated. I felt...opportunistic.”

She screwed up her face a bit at that and finally turned to look over at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means…I appreciate the opportunity the mistletoe afforded me.”

“The opportunity to foil Bronn?”

“That was fun, yes, but I meant the opportunity to kiss you.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“Of course I don’t.”

“Then don’t say it, idiot. You’re not being funny."

“I’m not trying to be."

"There’s no crowd now. There’s no show to put on.”

“Barring the fact that that’s insulting, you are absolutely right.”

“What? Well, I…that’s what I figured.”

“No, you’re not right about me kissing you out of tradition or obligation or boredom or whatever incorrect reason you’re determined to assign to the moment.”

“Jaime, I’m tired…”

“I need my jacket for a moment.”

“What? You’re taking it back?” She looked irritated and he couldn’t help chuckling. 

“No, I’m not. Just let me…”

She looked at him like he had two heads as he tugged her hands apart that were still holding either side of his jacket and slipped his hand inside. She nearly gasped until she realized he was just rummaging inside one of his inner pockets. She released a shaky breath as he did so. And then she sucked it back in when he found what he was looking for and held it up above their heads. 

“What are you doing?”

“What _am_ I doing? There’s no crowd watching, after all. Everyone’s gone home.”

“Do you just carry mistletoe around in your pocket now?”

“Only today…well, so far anyway. Only when hoping to get a chance to share it with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I realized you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to kiss under the mistletoe. And I realized that I didn’t want to waste any more time not making that our reality.”

She was staring back at him disbelievingly.

“I mean, that is to say, if you want that reality too. I wouldn’t…I mean, I’ll drop the whole thing if you don’t feel the same. You mean the world to me. I wouldn’t want to lose you as a friend if we’re not meant to be more.”

She was watching him very closely and he thought that just maybe she was warming to his vision of the reality they could have. “Someone told me earlier tonight they thought maybe we’d been friends for too long,” she let out in a warm rush of air.

His lips quirked. He finally understood what that comment had meant. “Maybe we should listen to Lady Olenna. She has that wise look about her.”

He watched Brienne’s own lips begin to quirk upward at the corners. “I don’t ever want to not be your friend.”

“I don’t think that’s what she was saying.”

“I don’t either.”

They’d been inching closer to one another with each sentence spoken and when the wind could no longer find a path between them, Jaime found Brienne’s hands gripping his crisp white shirt and he cared little that he slid his hand down over his own suit jacket. He loved that she was enveloped in it. They kissed still with a certain understandable shyness but also with a fervor that spoke to the longing they’d felt for each other, something they were finally ready to see and accept. 

Soon enough, Brienne tugged down on Jaime’s upraised arm. He let her but broke free of the kiss to confirm they were still on the same page. “Your arm must be getting tired.”

“The fatigue of my arm was the bodily sensation I was paying the least attention to just now.”

She laughed a bit through her nose. “Nonetheless.”

He reached up again but this time just to try to tuck the mistletoe into her hair.

“What are you doing?”

“Decorating you further.”

“Further?”

“These hair combs. They’re quite a nice touch. Other than that I pricked my finger on one when we were kissing earlier and it threw off my momentum.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. I wasn’t trying to end our kiss but it was maybe for the best we did stop before we received a rousing standing ovation.”

“Oh, gods.”

He leaned forward and examined the comb he was trying to tuck the mistletoe beneath more closely, and then it dawned on him. “These were your mother’s.” He leaned back to see if he was right and she nodded at him. “I knew they looked familiar.”

“My father gave them to me last month. He remembered that my mother always loved to wear these to the holiday parties and he thought I might like to do so as well now.”

“They suit you.”

“Thank you.”

“This plastic mistletoe was my mother’s. She used to sneak it out from behind her back and then give me cheek or forehead kisses. I loved it and she knew I loved it. I first kissed you beneath this mistletoe sprig in fact.”

“What?”

“Just on the cheek. You were a baby. I was fascinated by you. Still am.” He sent her a warm smile before continuing. He finished tucking the mistletoe into the comb, entwining it just so. “These fit nicely together. They complement each other. Like our moms did. Like we do.”

“I do think they may have wondered if we could one day end up together,” she conceded, referencing his question from the day before. “Even if they didn’t actively plan for it or root for it, I think they still may have wondered. But they didn’t really get to stick around so long to see the game play out.”

“I don’t know. I feel like they’ve been around.”

“Maybe.” She reached forward and gently slid her fingers into his hair and he bit his lip, enjoying the sensation. “Does talking about ghostly mothers always do it for the women you’re trying to make out with?”

He brought his arms around her waist and tugged her forward while dipping his head to place a very distracting kiss against her neck. “Shut up, wench. You know you like it.”

She laughed and it was such a beautiful sound to his ears. “I do.” Those two words were a beautiful sound to his ears as well. His lips worked their way back up her neck and reclaimed her lips. Or maybe she reclaimed his. It didn’t really matter. They were claiming each other. Welcoming each other. Accepting each other as they always had but now in a new, exciting way. She teased the seam of his mouth with her tongue and he accepted it into a new dance with his own. He slid his hands up and down her long, smooth arms and she let his jacket fall from her shoulders to the ground, accepting the warmth from his hands instead. Neither of them felt much of a chill out there on that balcony anymore. Still, at some point when the moon sat lower in the sky, they rather mutually agreed to head back inside. Once the hair combs and mistletoe were safely stored in the special box Jaime had discovered the day before, ready to be brought out and celebrated again the next year and the year after that, Jaime was finally able to muss up Brienne’s hair the way she’d already thoroughly mussed up his own. They were both finally able to do a lot of things…none of which required any further mistletoe. 


End file.
